Shades of Gray
by DreamyFireworks
Summary: Vito Scaletta is forced to work for the ICA in order to pay back his debt to Bruno. He gets more than he bargains for, however, when he becomes Agent 47's partner in crime. Mafia 2/Hitman crossover possible M rating later on
1. Phantom Bullet

**A/N: **Hi! It's been a while since I made a story and I've had this idea for a little while. I love both the Mafia 2 game and the Hitman series so I figured I might as well make a fic combining them both! Yeah, so basically, Vito is pretty much forced to work for the International Contract Agency, (ICA/the Agency) to pay back his debts to Bruno. He's stuck with more than he ever bargained for when he becomes Agent 47's partner in arms. First few chapters are a steady T despite Joe's and Vito's potty mouths :P but the fanfic might become M later on for graphic violence and possible sexual content/drug abuse. I have a pretty good idea where this is going, but not quite. Read and enjoy.

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><p><strong>Ch.1: Phantom Bullet<strong>

That single mission was how it all started for him. That damn shootout in the Chinatown restaurant shortly following the death of a dear friend. Vito vowed vengeance on his fallen comrade, Henry, and he decided that the quickest way to gain it was to wrench some information out of the Boss of the Chinese drug dealers - the drug dealers who killed Henry in cold blood and out in broad daylight, almost as if they considered Henry a nuisance that didn't even deserve a more humane way to go; this thought infuriated Vito to no end.

As he and Joe hid behind a riddled counter surrounded by woodchips and broken ornamental glass, the only thought Vito had on his mind at the moment was getting to that office and killing that self righteous son-of-a-bitch sitting behind his desk. Problem was, there were at least 20 Chinks scattered throughout the bludgeoned restaurant, waiting for either Vito or Joe to show their face so that they could put a hole through it. He and Joe had to take them out first before they could reach their main target, that much was certain. But _how _they were going to do this was a question that had yet to be answered. Vito had always considered himself a pretty sharp shooter, but it was going to take a lot of sharp shooting to get him and Joe to the elevator and even more so to get into the Chinese boss's office. And as Vito found himself running out of bullets, the situation became more and more distressful.

_What I wouldn't give for a cigarette right now, _the Wise Guy thought dryly as he took cover from an onslaught of ammunition.

It was then that Vito noticed a Chink raise his head to aim at Joe, who was busying himself with a few Chinks shooting at him from the back of the restaurant. He was quick to aim between the eyes for an instant kill, but was a moment too late: the Chink ducked his head and the bullet sailed past him and into the intricately carved wood of the booth. Vito cursed out loud, knowing that it would have been a perfect shot otherwise. A few feet away from him, Joe managed to take out the two Chinks he'd been shooting at, no doubt having to waste more bullets than was necessary. "These stupid fuckers don't stay still, do they?" Joe growled over at Vito, who was more than inclined to agree.

He and Joe were being closed in on, and backup for the Chinks were sure to arrive soon -that didn't give them much time to get to the boss and then get the hell out of there. Fortunately for the two, spare bullets in the guns left by the dead Chinks and strategic positioning soon gave them a path throughout the restaurant and into the elevator, which finally lead them to the boss's office.

Vito slammed open the door to confront the drug lord, sitting calmly behind his desk and unknowing of the massacre that happened just above his head. "You're dead, you slanty-eyed fuck!" Joe spat as he ruthlessly jabbed the barrel of his pistol against the Mr. Wong's head. There was a flicker of shock and fear in the boss's eyes that quickly dissolved into an eerie calmness.

"What is it that you want?" Mr. Wong asked quietly, seemingly annoyed by their intrusion. This was enough to earn him a pistol whip from Joe, who grabbed the boss's chin and yelled into his face, "What the fuck do you _think _we want?"

"We wanna know," Vito began in a husky growl, "why you had our friend killed. We also want the money you took from him." Mr. Wong trained his eerily calm gaze onto Vito before stating, "I had no choice. Your 'friend' was a government informer."

"What?" Vito's voice came out breathless; he couldn't believe that the man he'd worked beside for so long, the man who was his friend, had been ratting out on them all along. Joe couldn't believe this either, and showed his incredulity by pressing the pistol even harder against the boss's head. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Wong began to explain: "A contact inside the Federal Bureau of Narcotics told me that Henry Tomasino" –at this point Joe and Vito traded quizzical glances between each other- "has them information about our deal." "That's a _fuckin' lie!_" Joe snarled, anger hardening his features even further.

Vito felt his ire rise as well. "Woah woah woah, you're saying Henry was a rat?" "Yes," The boss stated, triumph flashing in his eyes as Joe continued to jab the pistol against his head, "but not anymore."

Vito's finger began to itch against the trigger, aching to kill the man who left his friend in a pool of blood on the sidewalk. He said to the boss between gritted teeth, "That's bullshit! Makes no sense! But I s'pose you had nothing to do with the little _stickup _after we closed the deal with you either, right?" Mr. Wong gave him a cold glare as he hissed, "You think we would take such a stupid risk and destroy our own _factory? _ That was just another reason to get rid of you." He took a shaky breath, began to talk again. "We had problems with you from the very beginning."

"Eh," Vito said, cocking his gun back up towards the boss, "well, all of your problems are just about over. So where's our money?"

Mr. Wong opened his mouth, began to say something, but his eyes suddenly widened in surprise and he was silenced by a _bang _and a bullet between the eyes- a shot Vito had definitely _not_ taken. He and Joe stared at each other, and Joe knew that Vito hadn't done it.

"What the-?" Joe said in stunned confusion, backing away from the dead boss as Vito whirled around towards the doorway- nobody there. He hurried out the door and looked around the hallway, gun gripped tightly in his hand. "The _fuck _just happened?" Joe stumbled out of the doorway in bewilderment to stand behind Vito, who was still inspecting the place. "A phantom bullet? Who else knew we were here?"

"Nobody, that's who," Vito growled as he stalked around the area, the knowledge creeping upon him that the shooter had already fled. "But who else would have it out against that old fuck?"

Was it a police officer? An agent? Neither of these seemed logical to Vito- if it were an officer or an agent, surely all three of them would've been arrested- shooting Mr. Wong and leaving Joe and Vito alone didn't make any sense. Maybe it was-

"An assassin?" Vito had felt it dawn on him that the killer could very well have been a hitman, someone hired to take out the drug lord. But something told Vito that it wasn't just that- the shooter had taken out the boss just before he told them where the money was taken. The assassin wanted to withhold information from Joe and Vito.

"_Shit!"_ Vito ground out, finally lowering his gun, "just what we needed. A random shooter and we still don't know where they have the money!" Joe shook his head slightly, exhaling through his nose. "Something tells me that Chink wouldn't've told us anyway".

Vito sighed, his frustration ebbing away into annoyance. "Let's just get the hell outta here before the cops come." He was still shaken by what had happened only moments ago- A gunfight, an interrogation, and all they got out of it was some disheartening information and a drive-by mystery shooter. This had not been a good day at all.

They ran their way to the elevator and through the kitchen. Vito could already sense some cops hanging around outside, not surprising since Joe and Vito had made enough noise to wake up half of Empire Bay. They threw themselves out of a door and into a back alley to the sound of sirens. Joe immediately holstered his gun.

"Aaaw, fuck this! C'mon Vito, let's get outta here. There's too many of them!" Vito ran to the nearest car and punched out the man about to enter it. He grabbed the keys that clinked to the ground and got inside. When Joe joined him, Vito drove like hell to escape the cops hot on his tail. When they rounded a corner and heard the sound of sirens fade away, both Joe and Vito sighed in relief. "Alright, we lost 'em. Take me to my place, Vito. I need a fuckin' drink."

The Andrews Sisters played softly on the radio, an old classic, as Vito searched for something to say back. "That was, uh… that was fucked up, huh?" "Yeah," was the halfhearted reply that Joe tossed back. "I don't wanna talk about it. Just get me back to my place, would ya?" The rest of the drive was spent in silence.

Back at Joe's place, Vito sat on the steps with a cigarette next to the garage where their new -and slightly battered- car lay. Joe leaned against the wall behind him, cancer stick in hand as well.

Vito took a long drag out of his cigarette. "This deal was a total fuckin' disaster."

"Tell me about it," Joe replied, his voice a mixture of anger and weariness. Vito decided to take up Joe's rhetorical answer.

"Henry's dead, we don't have Bruno's money, we killed half the Toms-"Joe let out smoke in an unsteady stream, gazing warily at the back of Vito's head before looking away, his eyes glazed over, "-and if they think Carlos sent us, it'll mean war." Vito blew smoke out in a long puff. "… We're fucked."

"Yeah." Joe agreed. "But if Carlos finds out we got him into this mess…"

"What if Henry really was a rat?" Vito had tried to keep the nagging thought out of his mind but it had been too persistent to ignore. And that damn mystery shooter as well… what'd _that _been all about?

"No fuckin' way!" Joe shot back indignantly. "Don't even say that. Look, first let's get the money for Bruno. That'll fix at least one problem."

_T__hat still leaves too many other problems to fix_.

"…But I'm done for today. I need a drink. Call you in the mornin', we'll figure this shit out."

"Alright," Vito replied. He figured on finishing his cigarette, unlike Joe, who tossed his on the ground and started for the door.

"Alright, I'll see you later. And Vito…" Vito glanced over his shoulder. "…Be careful." Joe's footsteps faded away, leaving Vito to sit alone and gaze out at the darkening sky.

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><p>End of Ch.1. Don't worry! A certain beloved agent will be in the next chapter ;D and in case you're wondering, any words in italics are Vito's thoughts.<p> 


	2. A Better Way

**A/N: **SO DID YOU SEE THE LATEST HITMAN COMING OUT?11 OMG IT LOOKS SOOO AWESOMEEEEE OMFGXYZBBQ *cough* sorry about that. Here's Ch.2 for you. Agent 47 and all 333

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><p>Ch.2: A Better Way<p>

As Vito started back towards his own place, taking a different car from the one they'd stolen at the restaurant, his mind wandered back to the shock on Mr. Wong's face, the face that saw its final image on the earthly ground – a gun for hire. It irked Vito to no end that the shooter had killed the boss before he and Joe could get out the location of their money- he assumed this had been on purpose. But there was no way in hell he was going back to that place just to see if he could get a lead to that 55 grand.

Vito settled into his bed for the night, eventually falling into a fitful sleep only to wake up to a ringing phone the next day. It was Joe, of course. After exchanging a few barbs with each other, Joe finally told Vito his master plan for getting a portion of their $55,000: Eddy offered them a job with a big payout.

"No shit?" Vito asked, not sure just how big of a payout it was. But then again, some money was better than no money.

"Yeah, I'll pick you up in a few minutes," Joe said from the other end. "So get dressed, grab a gun and wait for me outside. I'll tell you more in the car." Vito's reply came out flat and suspicious. "This better not be another one of your brilliant ideas, Joe."

Joe's voice came back even flatter. "Hey, I'm not in the mood."

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to snap at ya. I'm still half asleep over here."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So you in or not?"

"Sure, sure, why not. So how long 'till you get here?"

"I'm calling from the gun shop around the corner. I'll be at your place in a minute."

A minute didn't give Vito much time to get ready. "Alright, I'll wait for you out back. See ya soon." He hung up the phone and suddenly heard his front door swing open. There was no way that could've been Joe.

"Woah, hey what-" Vito whipped around to see someone he could've never imagined in his wildest dreams. Standing in his doorway was a tall, bald man dressed in a sleek black suit with a red tie. Leather gloves adorned his hands, both of which were holding pistols that Vito had never seen before.

Vito was more caught off guard than angry, but his voice still snapped at the man, "Who the hell are you?" He stepped away from the intruder and his back hit the table, rattling the telephone slightly. The stranger casually stepped closer from the doorway and into the house, cold blue eyes taking in Vito like he was more of a nuisance than anything. Vito sincerely doubted that this man was from New York at all, much less a part of any mafia family.

"Well?" Vito snapped, hand instinctively going for the pistol at his side only to realize that he still hadn't got dressed. The pistol rested on his kitchen counter, too far away for Vito to make a move. Great, he was going to get killed by this freak while still in his underwear in this shit hole of an apartment. This was not the way Vito had exactly planned on going.

The stranger finally spoke in a deep, regal voice tinged with an undistinguishable European accent. "I have a better way for you to earn your money."

Vito felt his brows knit together in confusion. It wasn't every day you had a bald, well dressed European weirdo stroll into your apartment and offer you a job. "The hell you talking about?"

"There is a way for you to earn your money back, much more than you were previously offered. But I'm afraid your friend cannot participate in it."

"Joe?" Vito breathed out, and he found himself saying, "Why not?" Joe had always been his partner in crime- he could never do a larger mission without him.

The stranger looked as if he were stifling a sigh. "Let us just say that a team of three men is a team of one too many. Two will make the cut just fine. Your friend Joe will have to earn his money by another means."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute…" Vito's head began to pound slightly, no doubt both from the beer he had last night to sooth his nerves enough to sleep and the fact that a total fucking stranger was in his home. "I still don't know who the fuck you are. Mind explaining yourself?" It was now obvious that the man had no intention of killing him.

The stranger halted for a moment, as if considering how much information could be given out to Vito. Then he placed his guns inside his jacket –why they were out when he came here was still a mystery to Vito.

"My name is Agent 47. I work for the International Contract Agency, which is a worldwide organization that has the cooperation of various governmental agencies. I am an assassin-for-hire."

Vito paused for a moment, struggling to drink in all this information. "So you're a government worker. How do I know that I can trust you?" Agent 47's eyes regarded Vito coldly. "I do not work for any government, I work for the agency. The ICA is politically neutral and amoral. Just because we have the cooperation of governmental organizations doesn't make us one of them."

"Right, right, my bad. Well, listen, I still have to help Joe out on his ordeal before I can get back to you on this whole CIA thing."

"ICA."

"Whatever." Vito heard Joe honk the horn outside of his apartment. He had to get dressed fast or else Joe would come up there and see _this guy _standing around in Vito's pad, and Vito didn't feel like explaining. He opened up his dresser and grabbed the first thing he saw, which was his trusty old leather jacket. As he dug around for a shirt and pants to pull on, Vito muttered, "I'll take it you'll still be here when I get back."

"Affirmative." 47 replied as he put his hands behind his back. Vito felt a little uncomfortable with 47 standing in the corner while he yanked on his clothes, but when he looked over 47 had his eyes politely averted, observing the painting that hung over the table with the telephone. When Vito looked presentable he opened the door and shot one last look over his shoulder at the agent, who was now looking at him. "I have a couple of questions for you when I come back."

"Unsurprisingly." Vito took a wild guess that this man wasn't much of a talker. For some reason, he felt relieved. People who couldn't keep their mouths shut annoyed him. 47 paused for a moment before he said warningly to Vito, "Don't tell your friend or anyone else about me. You do your mission and come back, but not with Joe."

"Since when could you give me orders?"

"Since I became the one who could help you regain all of your money."

Vito squinted distrustfully at the agent before he shut the door behind him and trotted down the steps to Joe, who was leaning against the passenger side of a red Smith Thunderbolt, a vintage car that was still in beautiful shape. The year was 2007, and this dated back all the way to '51.

"Hey, what's with the fancy wheels?"

Joe rubbed at his face as he replied, "Eddy gave it to us just for this job. Nice, eh? You know how's he a freak for old cars. You drive, my head's still pounding from last night. We're goin' to Greenfield." Vito reached for the car door as he said, "Guess you hit the sauce pretty hard too, huh?"  
>Joe grunted a bit as he took his hands from his face.<p>

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep either. Nuthin' a bottle of Scotch couldn't fix, though."

They settled in the car and began to drive to Greenfield. On the way, Joe began telling him what it was all about: Eddy wanted them to kill a guy as a favor to a family from another city. Apparently the man had ratted out his family to the Feds and then went into hiding. They hadn't found him until recently and because the man's family didn't want to lose him, the job had to be done today. The man's name was Thomas Angelo.


	3. A Deal is Made

**Ch.3: A Deal is Made**

Vito went back to his place after he dropped Joe off. The scene kept repeating itself in his mind relentlessly. The man they were sent to kill was an elderly who had been watering his lawn like a normal guy, completely unsuspecting. They drove up beside his house and got out, Vito rehearsing the line in his head. He and Joe walked up to the man, getting a better view of his grey hair and suspenders as he still had his back turned.

"Mr. Angelo?"

"Ah, yes?" The man turned around to reveal a mustached face that looked like it had gone through years of turmoil. The line echoed itself in Vito's mind as it left his lips.

"Mr. Salieri sends his regards."

On cue, Joe pulled out a Lupara and shot him in the chest. A woman screamed, and Joe and Vito hurried back into the Thunderbolt and drove away, leaving Mr. Angelo dead on his newly watered lawn, soaked in a pool of blood.

It had taken them a while to shake off the cops, but when they finally did, Joe gave Vito his share of the money, $3,000. Then they pulled into a repair shop and changed the license plate. After Joe was dropped off at his place, Vito pulled the car into his garage and walked the steps up to his apartment. He was supposed to have met with Derek, but 47 had told him to come straight back to his apartment, and he wasn't about to disregard someone who claimed to have the ability to pull him out of his debt.

He opened up the door to face the agent, who had been standing beside the telephone, almost as if he'd been making a few calls. Somehow Vito doubted that- his home phone was too easy to tap, and this guy looked like he did everything via fancy electronic communication devices. Vito eyed 47 warily as he hung up his jacket. "So, Mr.47… care to enlighten me on how you found me at all?"

47 tilted his head a bit as he began to recount. "I was put on a mission to kill Zhe Yun Wong and ended up having more on my hands than was thought previously." Vito closed his closet door and turned to glare daggers at the agent, standing coolly in the corner, his face as blank as a fresh sheet of paper.

"So it was you who took out that Chink! Mind tellin' me why you didn't want us to hear where they took the money?"

47 continued, hands held formally behind his back. "That information is confidential. Rest assured, it is no longer in the, as you call them, Chinks' hands. My agency had that taken care of." Vito walked briskly up to the agent, his mouth tight with fury. "Oh, I see! So you stole all the money from us for your own use. Now you want to help me get all of it back? You're making no fucking sense! Why don't you just give us back the money that you took?"

The agent looked like he was holding back another sigh. "The agency took all of your money already. My controller, Diana, felt guilty about this and persuaded a few superiors to send me to offer you a place in the ICA. In the ICA, you can perform various missions to earn all of your money back. You will earn your money much faster this way than if you decided to continue performing petty thefts and murders."

47 didn't even flinch when Vito stood so close to him that the tips of their shoes touched. The Wise Guy's eyes were dark with anger. "Tell you what… you can take that offer of yours and shove it up your ass. I'll find my own means to get the money back." Vito turned on his heels and walked to the front door, pulling it open and gesturing outside. "So long, Mr.47."

"I'm afraid it's not that easy." Vito's eyes widened as the agent reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pistol, aiming it at the Wise Guy. Vito grabbed for his own gun but found it wasn't there. "What the fuck?" He looked at 47's other hand and saw his gun there. "How did you…?"

"You will learn how I did that if you decide to take my offer and join the ICA. I'm giving you one last chance."

Vito growled and shut the door, his gaze lifting up from the M1911 to focus on 47's calm features. "Looks like you don't leave me much of a choice."

"Now that you are aware of the ICA, I can't let you go alive unless you join as well." Vito gritted his teeth and sidled past the agent to his fridge, all too aware of the pistol trained on the back of his head. He pulled open the fridge door and grabbed a cold one, shut the fridge and then opened a drawer to casually search for a bottle opener. Meanwhile, Agent 47 remained dead quiet, never letting the pistol down for a moment.

Vito popped open the bottle and leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a long swig and sighing with contentment, feeling the familiar burn slide down his throat. He looked over at 47, who was still pointing the gun at him, face blank with detachment, like it was just another job for him- which it was.

"You have one minute, Mr. Scaletta."

Oh, so now the agent was keeping him on a timer? Vito drummed his fingers on the counter, then shifted his feet and cracked his neck before smirking at 47. "Alright, alright, I'll join your stupid agency. It's either that or get a hole blown in my face. You assassins sure are persuasive."

47 paused for a moment before lowering his gun. "Then you must leave with me now." Vito crossed his arms. "Hey, don't I get to say goodbye to everyone first? I'm pretty sure Joe will be wondering where I went."

47 shook his head slightly. "Your friend must not be aware of any of this. I'm sorry, Mr. Scaletta, but you will never see anyone that you know ever again." Vito felt himself gritting his teeth again. "Can I at least go do one last thing before you decide to kidnap me? I need to go talk to Derek."

"No. Come with me now."

Vito was really gritting his teeth now, angry with this man who stole all the money he needed to pay back Bruno, who barged into his house, who threatened to kill him if he rejected his offer. He wanted to take the agent's face and bash it into a brick wall as hard as he could. But the gun resting against 47's chest and the other two in his hands told Vito that maybe trying to do that wasn't such a smart idea. He decided to try a different maneuver, one that not even the most brutal assassin could say no to… the puppy dog eyes.

When Vito was a boy, the puppy dog eyes had gotten him from getting spanked a couple of times by his mother. When he grew older he used it to persuade a few men into giving him odd jobs even though he was technically underage. He had even been saved from the brunt of the officer's wrath a few times when he was caught stealing. When he reached manhood, Vito turned the puppy dog eyes up a notch into bedroom eyes. These bedroom eyes did exactly as their name suggested, getting any and every woman he wanted into bed with him. Just one look could send a damsel crazy, and Joe noticed this before, telling Vito that he should give him lessons because Vito had gotten the look down to an art.

Not that he was using the bedroom eyes on 47, hell no. He just wanted to persuade 47 into letting him talk to Derek. He set down his bottle and focused the full wrath of the puppy dog gaze on 47, widening his eyes just a bit, making them look a little moist like an adorable little puppy's, forcing his pupils to become larger. His voice even came out a little sweeter, more innocent.

"Just one last thing. Please. Something tells me this is very important."

Ah, it was working…at least, Vito thinks so. 47 raised an eyebrow at the Wise Guy's act, the most expressive thing Vito had seen him done yet.

"I'm afraid not." Damn it! This guy was a hard case. Oh well, time to bring it up a notch. Vito's eyelids lowered ever so slightly, his brows turned up a bit, making him look almost apologetic, his pupils dilated a little more. "Please. One last thing, that's _all I ask_." His voice came out a little huskier than he intended, but Vito wasn't about to give up. It looked like he almost had the agent cracked.

47 paused once more, training his light blue eyes on Vito's large, dark blue, _very_ convincing ones. His jaw shifted a bit, and finally he said, "I'm not supposed to leave you out of my sight. Therefore, I am coming with you."

The puppy dog eyes have done it again.

As it turned out, talking to Derek, learning about what really happened to his dad, and then killing Derek and the rest of his sleazy crew with the workers had its benefits. Vito got $30,000 from Derek's desk and walked out of the factory in high spirits. That was, he was in high spirits until he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head.

"Place your hands on your head, please, Mr. Scaletta." Vito's eyes narrowed as he followed the agent's command.

"You guys don't take any chances, do ya?"

47 walked around until he was facing the Wise Guy, gun pointed all the while. "We cannot take any risks of having you armed while we're transporting you." While he said this, 47's gloved hand reached inside Vito's jacket and grabbed his gun before throwing it to the side, then moved lower to reach into his pocket, felt the knife, and threw that out as well. Vito willed himself to stand still as the agent's hand patted down his sides and felt his legs.

"Might as well just strip me down." Vito wasn't really in the mood to joke anymore –having a gun pointed at you sucks that out pretty fast- but he felt a bit of teasing was appropriate for the little pat down. "No time for that," 47 replied, as if Vito had been serious, "we're going to the car now."

Vito could feel the weight of the $30,000 in his pocket and remembered. "I have to pay Bruno by tomorrow."

"Don't worry about that," 47 said as he led Vito to the black Jaguar XFR parked a ways from the factory, "The Agency had a talk with him, and he agreed to have it all paid back to him a week from now, with an added $5,000."

Vito felt a headache coming on. "Great! I barely have over half the money I need to pay him now!" 47 opened the door of the Jaguar for Vito and the Wise Guy slumped in. Vito noted that there was a chauffeur in the driver's seat- not that he expected 47 to drive himself around. 47 walked around to the other side and sat beside Vito on the cream colored leather, his gun holstered back into his jacket. He gestured to the chauffeur, who began to drive.

"Trust me, Mr. Scaletta. By the end of this week, you'll have enough money to pay Mr. Bruno and then some."

"I pray to God that's true," was Vito's halfhearted reply as he slumped even further against the leather interior, suddenly tired. "The sooner I get out of this deal, the better." He thought about Joe, how confused he'll be when he calls up Vito the next day and gets no answer, how he'll go all the way to his friend's apartment to find it completely vacant. How he'll think that Vito had abandoned him. "What about Joe, does he know about any of this?"

"Joe has been told by Mr. Bruno that he need not pay him back. You already have it all settled."

_I'm sure Joe's happy about that, _Vito thought, gazing out of the window onto the streets of Empire Bay, thinking that this may be last chance he'll ever see his home again.

"By the way, what happens when we get to this Agency you've been talking about?"

"You'll find out. Now rest." Suddenly Vito felt a sharp pain in his neck from being jabbed with a needle. His eyes widened in shock then felt a lot heavier. His tongue felt thicker and his sight began to blur, his mind getting hazy. Then he fell over onto 47's shoulder as everything faded to black.


	4. Warm Welcome

EDIT: Oh man, I really screwed up on this chapter. Edited out a huge section that I'm still ashamed of ever putting there. Vito doesn't have a barcode, or is named 56. He is simply Mr. Scaletta. Hope you guys don't mind my massive error (it's gone now) '-.-

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><p>Ch.4<p>

Vito woke up in a white room that eerily resembled a doctor's office and was just as cold. There was nobody else besides him. The bed he lay on lacked sheets and he felt himself shivering in the drafty room; then he realized that he no longer had his normal clothes on. Instead, he was wearing grey sweatpants and a white tee shirt. He wasn't sure he wanted to know who had undressed him.

Across from him, the door opened and a woman in a navy blue suit walked in, wearing glasses with her dark red hair up in a bun. The heels of her shoes clicked on the tile as she walked towards Vito, extending a hand. Her voice was dainty and British.

"Hello, Mr. Scaletta. I'm Diana, 47's-"

"Controller, yeah, yeah, I know." Vito ignored Diane's extended hand and rubbed the side of his neck, still sore from where the damn agent stabbed him with a needle. He felt more like a captive than anything. After a moment of keeping her hand stretched out, Diana let it fall limply to her side.

"I'm sure Mr.47 has told you everything already."

Vito eyed Diana suspiciously. "Yeah, unless there's something else you're keeping from me. Answer me this: Are you gonna give me back my clothes?"

"I'm afraid not. From now on, you are to wear the outfits that we assign you."

Vito was a little annoyed at this. He'd worn that leather jacket for as long as he could remember, and it was kind of like an old friend. "You mean I have to dress like 47?"

"Similar to him. We dictate that all our agents dress formally."

"Doesn't really make any sense, but as long as I don't have to wear the gloves I am a-OK with it."

Diana looked like she was about to say something else, but something beeped in her pocket and she paused. Her face seemed slightly apologetic as she said, "There's something I must tend to before we can continue this. So please, Mr. Scaletta, excuse me." And just like that, she turned and walked out of the blank room, her black pumps clicking on the polished floor. Vito didn't know what else to do as he sat back on the uncomfortable mattress, letting his eyes roam around the room.

After they gave him a relatively tasteless meal, Vito was still sitting in his bedroom, and he'd been there for so long that he'd already memorized every detail of his room…permanently.

_Let's see…white door…white walls…white tile…white bed…white hallways…white, white, more white…I think I've seen enough white to last me an entire lifetime._

Finally the door opened, and in walked Diana, followed by a man in a suit. Vito was so goddamn bored that he was willing to beg her to take him out of this suffocating place. "My apologies for making you wait so long," Diana said while a clipboard rested in her hand. "Follow me, please." Vito was more than happy to.

As they walked down the hallway once more, Diana began to brief Vito on his first mission- at least, his first mission involving the Agency. "You are to accompany 47 to Colombia, where there is a cocaine trade being handled by a drug lord named Miguel Rodriguez- he is to be your main target. Your second target is Luis Andres, the main overseer of the cocaine production and distribution around the city of Bogotá. Miguel will arrive at the site in about four days to see Luis about the cocaine production. I advise that you stay on your guard during this mission as there are sure to be armed overseers throughout the plant."

Vito furrowed a brow at this. "I thought 47 said that you guys were politically neutral."

"We are. This mission was requested by a disgruntled investor."

"Hmm. So what are we supposed to do while we wait for Miguel to arrive?"

They rounded a corner to face a (not surprisingly) white door. When the man opened the door, Vito and Diana stepped inside what looked like a gym occupied by, what Vito assumed to be, other agents. Various exercise machines and equipment lined the walls, and in the center was a large mat with a table at the side. Standing on the mat was no one other than 47, dressed in the same clothing that Vito wore- he still looked elegant, much to the annoyance of Vito.

As he approached the agent, Vito had at least five hundred snide remarks to make that revolved around being stabbed in the neck with a syringe. The first that came out of his mouth was, "Mind taking it easy next time you lay the roofies on me?"

47, as usual, was in no mood to kid around with the Wise Guy. He stated dryly, "As far as I am concerned, Rohypnol was mixed in alcoholic beverages, _not_ taken via needle injection."

Vito was quick to snap back, "Oh, I forgot, you save the roofies for your dates. My bad."

Although 47's face remained placid, Vito saw a flash of indignation in the agent's eyes. Good. He wanted to see something in 47 that still made him a human.

Diana moved uneasily between them. "Let's keep this civil, boys. As an answer to your previous question, Mr. 56, we are going to spend the time training you for this mission. We've assumed that your involvement in the Carlos family has already made you a suitable marksman, although we will have to confirm that later. Right now we are going to focus on the stealth part. For the majority of the day, you are to practice sneak tactics and stealth kills along with melees. 47 will guide you through these."

Vito stared uneasily at 47, wondering whether or not the agent will take this opportunity to kill him and make it look like an accident. But considering 47's caliber, 47 was not prone to accidents, and Diana was surely aware of that. Diana probably wouldn't believe 47 if the agent 'accidently' snapped Vito's neck or 'accidentally' broke a few of Vito's ribs while demonstrating a direct attack. Besides that, Vito felt that he was pretty capable of handling 47 by himself: not to brag, but after taking out O' Neil in prison, nobody wanted to mess with Vito, the Wise Guy, the Steel Knuckles, the Ultimate Killing Machine (okay, okay, maybe he came up with that last one, but he felt it was a fitting title all the same).

Diana stood back from the two, the clipboard resting against her navy suit jacket. "Mr. Scaletta, please walk to the table. Let us try sneak tactics first. I would like you to unlock this toolbox using only this bobby pin." Diana placed the pin in Vito's hand as the man in the suit set a padlocked box on the table across from the new agent. Diana pressed a button on her watch, presumably a stopwatch. "Begin."

_Piece of cake, _Vito thought to himself, remembering all the times he had broken into cars with hardly a problem, _I could break into this thing using only a toothpick. _

As it turned out, however, the padlock was being a bit of a bitch. Vito had to focus a little more on it than he would with a regular car door lock, and he had to be careful not to let the bobby pin break inside of it- now _that _would've been a problem. Vito finally wrestled open the box, but probably not in the time he'd originally expected. Diana checked her watch. "12.07 seconds. Not a bad time, Mr. Scaletta. Let's try a regular door now."

If the toolbox had been a bitch, the door was a motherfucker. Vito felt frustration grow inside of him as he wrestled with the lock using the dinky little bobby pin, feeling the cold glare of 47's eyes on him, almost like he was challenging Vito to beat a certain time. He finally swung open the door, and Diana stopped her watch. "8.5 minutes. Quite impressive as well. That was a Shlage Classic Primus you just unlocked, a commonly used lock in the U.S. A new Shlage lock typically takes between 5 to 15 minutes to picklock." Vito stood back, hands on hips, and glanced over at 47 like he suddenly remembered that the agent was there. "Mind telling me what this guy's time was for the door?"

Diana pursed her lips like she was trying to dig up an old memory. 47 answered for her. "4.3 minutes."

"Ah-huh." The urge to break 47's face on a brick wall suddenly came over Vito again. Not that he was jealous or anything, but he couldn't believe that it took 47 less than half the time to picklock the door. The Wise Guy had always considered himself a pretty good lock picker, but now it seemed he had met his challenge.

For the rest of the day, Vito had to practice stealth maneuvers, takeouts, and finally, after strangling practice, hand-to-hand combat; His opponent was… well, you know already.

Vito and 47 stood across from each other on the mat; around them, other agents had stopped what they were doing on the exercise equipment to watch with casual interest, small smirks on their faces. Vito could practically hear what they were thinking; _A new guy against our top agent? This might not go down too well. _

Vito bit his lip. _Hate to disappoint you guys, but I'm not as easy to beat as you think. _Vito had a need to whoop some ass ever since he got into this place, and the fact that it was 47's ass made it even better. He'd taken out several guys when he was in prison, so his fighting skills weren't something to brush off. On the other hand, 47's probably weren't either.

Diana stood off the mat next to the suited man. She tapped her pen on the clipboard. "Hopefully you will never need to resort to close combat, but it is essential to learn for when you must. 56, you are to attack 47, who will protect himself from your advances; try to break his defense."

47 put his hands up in front of his face before placing himself more firmly on the mat. Vito walked over to 47 casually, like a guy with his hands in his pockets would, before suddenly throwing a fist towards the agent's face. 47 easily caught it in one hand and shoved Vito away. _Just getting warmed up, _the Wise Guy thought to himself, remembering how Joe used to teach him how to fight on the streets. _Hit 'im in a place his hands can't get to that fast, _Joe used to tell him, _like his stomach or something. Or even better, below the belt. Bastard'll never see it coming._

God knows what'll happen if Vito tried to punch 47 in the crotch- probably something that involved rope, a gianormous dartboard, and 47's pistol of choice; so he ultimately decided to aim for the stomach instead.

Vito clenched his fist and swung it towards 47's stomach, only to have that caught as well. Vito then swung his other clenched hand towards the agent's stomach, faster than 47 was able to deflect. Vito felt a glimmer of satisfaction as his fist smacked into 47's stomach, hearing a _whoosh _of surprise from the agent. 47 flung a knee up and rammed Vito's fists away, taking a step back and bringing his fists up again, this time with an aggravated look on his face. Around him, Vito felt more eyes trained on their little session, some agents more surprised than others. Vito felt a sneer form on his face, feeling a rush of adrenaline flow through him, keening to make another hit. Oh, he was going to make several hits before this was over. 47 will be limping away; this he was going to be sure of.

Okay, erase that previous thought; getting another hit on the agent proved to be impossible this time. 47 seemed to have his guard down a bit when Vito made the first hit; but now he was stuck on full defense mode, fluidly dodging Vito's hits like he already knew everything Vito was going to do. With each deflected punch, Vito felt a spike of anger go through him; he'd never had an opponent make these many deflects at once. It was like Vito was going in slow motion, and 47 was casually moving around to avoid the Wise Guy's hits.

Vito stopped to mop away some sweat on his brow, panting as he observed the agent's face, blank as usual. 47 had absolutely no signs of fatigue; rather, he seemed to be bored and annoyed that this had been going on for so long. There was not a trickle of sweat on him, and they'd been going at it for the past thirty minutes. The agents had long ago begun to ignore them, resuming their sessions with small smiles on their faces like, _another one bites the dust. _

Diane tapped her pen on her clipboard again, lips pursed. "That's enough for now. Scaletta, you are now on the defense. Try to deflect 47's hits."

Oh. Shit.

Vito barely had enough time to cover his face as his opponent's fist swung straight in between the eyes. The _smack _of the forceful hit resounded throughout the gym, causing a few agents to stop and look up in surprise. Then Vito felt the movement of 47's other fist come in for a blow…right below the belt.

_Bastardo._

Vito reached a hand down to deflect the blow, and thankfully was successful in his goal of not getting ball punched. He stared blatantly into 47's eyes and sensed that the agent had probably planned to make Vito sterile judging from the force of the blow. Not that Vito planned on ever having any kids, but the thought aggravated him severely nonetheless. Punch after punch came, and Vito was constantly on edge to not get pummeled into the ground by the tireless agent. Four or five times he had been hit, and once 47's fist grazed the side of Vito's neck threateningly.

Then, in a single fluid motion, 47 knocked Vito out from underneath his feet, grabbed the Wise Guy in mid-air by the shoulders, then slammed him into the ground on his back, causing Vito to hit his head hard against the mat. Vito's eyes widened in shock and pain, then focused on the viscously blank stare of 47 as the agent's right hand forcibly squeezed Vito's shoulder while his left hand rose up to deliver a blow.

"Time out, _time out!," _Vito wanted to yell, but found that a strangled growl had forced its way past his lips instead. Without thinking, he shot out his free arm and punched 47 right in the face, surprising the agent to the point of loosening his hold enough for Vito to roll out underneath his opponent. Vito was on his feet as soon as 47 shot up to his, and they both tackled each other at the same time with equal ferocity. Both men slammed onto the mat, 47 getting the upper hand once more as he glared balefully down at the newly appointed agent underneath him. Vito's hands found their way to the agent's neck, wrapping his fingers around the other's throat in a steel-like grip. 47 was quick to return the favor, his gloveless fingers brutally choking the air out of Vito.

The cries of Diana were tuned out as each man attempted to strangle the life out of the other, and several agents stopped their workout to run over with alarm. Vito saw the look on 47's face, and the look spoke of death, right down to the tightly clenched jaw and the steely blue eyes. The look of a killer. He was pretty sure his expression was an exact reflection.

Vito didn't know how long it took until there were enough agents to try and pull them apart. He felt his mind go numb from the lack of air, and 47's image began to waver in his unsteady gaze. He wasn't about to stop though; he figured if he was going to have an early death he may as well drag the agent down to hell with him.

Suddenly, the hands around his neck loosened considerably as he felt his own hands get ripped away from 47's throat. At least half a dozen burly agents pulled Vito away from 47, but hate still ran rampant in Vito's heart as he struggled out of the agent's grip with a snarl and pounced at the agent, who knocked his coworkers away from him and clenched his fists towards the Wise Guy. Right before they collided Vito was yanked away by the collar, and the pain seemed to pull all the adrenaline from him. The lack of oxygen in his brain hit him full force, and Vito suddenly found himself bent over double on his knees, greedily gasping for precious air; across from him, he heard 47 breathing heavily as well, although the agent was regaining his oxygen in a much more dignified manner- in other words, not bent over on the ground like his adversary was.

_Smarmy prick… _Vito grit his teeth, imagining the satisfaction of landing one more punch on the freak before he was dragged away and thrown into his hellhole of a room for more agonizing hours on end. No sooner had Vito regained his senses than being forcefully pulled up by hands and forced to meet the angry stare from Diana. 47's controller looked the two men over before she spoke.

"47, you know better than to lose control of yourself, especially on a recruit who also happens to be your _new_ _partner_. As for _you_, , one more mistake like that and you will not stay in this agency for much longer. Do you two understand me?"

Vito felt like a little kid who had just been spanked. As he glanced over and saw the somewhat shocked expression on 47's face, the Wise Guy figured that the agent was not used to being lectured like this, if he had ever _been _lectured before. They nodded in unison at Diana, who frowned and tapped her pen on her clipboard before saying, "Take them away. Hopefully they'll be more civilized towards each other tomorrow."

Once more, Vito was pulled through the white halls and forced into the deafeningly white room. Before the door shut on him he yelled, "Can't I at least hang up a goddamn picture?! Place needs a little color!" Of course, he was ignored.

He slumped onto his bed, suddenly exhausted and sore from the day's exertions, not including the tussle he had with that son-of-a-bitch 47. His fingers tentatively reached up to feel the bruises slowly forming around his neck, and somehow knew that 47 was doing the same thing in his own blank confinement. He wondered if the agent was forming death wishes against him as well, but then figured that the agent felt himself too high and mighty to even let Vito into his thoughts long enough to do so.

He was sweaty and hungry, but he didn't care enough to yell this to the agents who were no doubt standing guard outside of his room, making sure the newbie didn't escape. He fell over onto the mattress and into a dreamless sleep, the image of 47's face scowling down at him the last thing on his mind before he closed his eyes.

_Just what did I get myself into…_

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><p>AU: A certain agent comes into the next chapter!<p> 


	5. Fire and Ice

A/N: Hello! So I know this fanfic hasn't been updated in forever, because I honestly didn't expect anyone to see this story, much less follow it. Obviously there was a massive mistake that I was quick to fix in the previous chapter, so it's all good. Enjoy the story!

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><p>Ch.5<p>

By the time Vito woke up, the bruises on his neck had bloomed into a dark purple tint, and were a dull throb that the Sicilian found he could ignore well enough. His mouth was dry, and he felt gross. He hadn't showered in two days, and considering the workout he'd gotten in the gym before the incident, with his clothes smelling like dried sweat, he was in pretty bad need of a scrubdown. He left his rock of a bed and knocked on the white door, as politely as he could. Not a second passed before the door was opened to reveal some sharply dressed men keeping guard, both of which stared at him with curled lips. Vito resisted the urge to glare back and asked, "Hey, um, how much longer until I can get out of this room?" He kept his voice neutral, fully aware now that attitude will take him nowhere in this place.

One of the guards responded with, "Diana should be dropping by shortly. You need to stay in there until then." By 'shortly', Vito hoped they didn't mean a few more hours. Otherwise he'd go crazy and kill himself, possibly taking one or both of the guards in the process. He nodded his acquiescence and went back into his room, hearing the 'click' of the door locking behind him. _'It's like prison all over again. Only worse.'_

He laid on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Minutes rolled by like hours and finally Vito could hear the faint tapping of heels making their way to his door. The door opened to reveal Diana in all her business-suited glory, as Vito felt a mixture of relief and anxiety make a delicate twist in his stomach. Thinking about the incident, he wasn't sure whether or not to apologize to Diana for what he did, or even to –ugh- 47. But Diana spoke before he could even finish the thought. "I hope you slept well, Mr. Scaletta."

'_I could've gotten a better nap if I'd slept on the floor.' _Vito bit the thought back into his mindand responded coolly with "Well enough." Diana eyed him over and turned to talk to one of the guards. Her voice sounded slightly exasperated. "He should've showered and eaten before he was taken back to his room." The guard shrugged his shoulders and replied, "We thought you wanted to teach him a lesson." Diana paused and, nudging the guard out of the doorway and out of Vito's sight, began to whisper something to him that wasn't quite audible to Vito. Whatever she was saying carried heat with it, so it likely wasn't nice. Finally she turned and gestured for Vito to follow her, and the former Wise Guy more than willingly obliged. As they walked down the hall followed by the guards, Diana began talking again.

"I was originally going to take you to shooting practice, but seeing that you're in need of a meal-"

Vito butted in with, "-And a shower. I know I look like shit-"

Diana kept talking like she never heard him, "You're going bathe and go to the mess hall first."

They approached a –surprise surprise- white door that stated MEN'S LOCKER ROOM. "There should be a fresh change of clothes in your locker, along with bathing essentials. Your locker number is 175," Diana stated, handing Vito a small silver key with a chain attached to it. "When you are finished, Mr. Povlsen will escort you to the mess hall."One of the guards nodded his head at Vito, who grimaced in return. "Don't tell me you're gonna follow me in there." Diana answered for Povlsen in a calm voice, "All agents who commit insubordination must be observed by a guard for at least 24 hours." Vito gave her a flat look and replied, "A fancy way of saying 'I fucked up so now I gotta put on a show in the shower.' " The nameless guard snorted and Diana shot him a withering look. Vito could tell she'd been at her wit's end for the past few days, most likely about how's she's going to control the partnership of two men who've tried to kill each other. She turned and began walking down the hallway, followed by the second guard. "I will see you shortly, Mr. Scaletta."

Vito walked into the locker room. The floor and lower half of the walls were composed of small gray tiles- a tiny upgrade from the ever fashionable white- and as expected, there were lockers everywhere. "Yours should be on this row," Povlsen said behind him, making Vito jump a bit at the echo Povlsen's voice made. He followed the guard's pointing finger and found his locker, a steel gray box with the number '175' etched into it. Opening it, he found a set of clothes similar to what he was wearing, with the exception that the pants were slacks instead of sweats, and there were also black loafers. Vito grabbed the soap, shampoo and towel waiting inside before turning to see Povlsen standing at the end of the locker row, staring at the Wise Guy. Vito snarled at him, "You gonna watch me undress or something? You wanna bathe me too?!" Povlsen raised his hands up in defense and answered "I hope you know how to bathe yourself. Not my fault I got stuck with escorting a prick like you around." And with those words, he turned and walked off to a different area.

Vito sighed. Normally he wasn't in such a sour mood. He blamed it on low blood sugar and the fact that he was being held here against his will. He pulled off his clothes, leaving them in a heap before walking past the jungle of lockers to the open room of showerheads. Not a curtain in sight. _'Great, I like me some lack of privacy.' _Just as long as there weren't any ugly prison creepers trying to pork him, he felt he could handle it. Besides that, he was the only one there. While walking in the hallway with Diana, he had glanced at a wall clock that said 9:15. There wasn't a single window to tell Vito whether that was 9:15 a.m. or p.m. , and to be honest he didn't really care. Time seemed to bear little consequence in this place, like it did in prison.

Vito showered and put on his new clothes, following a silent Povlsen to the mess hall. He finally got to see some windows as they walked there, large windows that showed a bright day outside. All around him were people walking, tapping away at their computers or talking to each other. The whole place felt very much like a normal office without the cubicles. Many of them had stopped to stare at the Wise Guy- plenty of them he recognised the gym, while the others most likely caught wind of what went down between him and their top agent. He ignored their stares and whispers, looking straight ahead at the back of Povlsen's head- he suddenly became aware of the bruises on his neck. They finally stopped at a glass double door, the word CAFETERIA marked above it in steel lettering. They walked inside to a large room with more big windows towards the back, and the walls were painted green, giving the place a bit of a cheery feeling. Small round tables dotted the area, and at the side there were even some couches and a fireplace. Not bad for a mess hall. Vito got himself a plate full of food that looked at least two steps above what he ate yesterday and parked himself at one of the tables towards the back. There weren't a lot of other people in the cafeteria, mainly workers getting drinks and chatting to each other. Most of them stared at Vito as he got his food, making the Wise Guy feel all kinds of awkward, hence why he wanted to sit as far away from the others as he could.

Povlsen sat at the table as well, but he was occupied with some papers that another agent had given him on the way there; he flipped through them idly as Vito dug into his breakfast. Vito was about halfway finished and finally starting to feel himself again before he heard someone say in a dubious voice, "Um, excuse me." Once more, Vito was annoyed. He looked up and saw a man standing a bit awkwardly in a navy blue suit. The man spoke again. "Um, sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but are you… Mr. 47's new partner, Vito Scallini?" Vito frowned. "It's Scaletta. Why you asking?" The man laughed a bit at his mistake and seated himself on the chair next to Vito- great, just what he needed. Someone to ask him questions while he ate his breakfast. Up close, the man looked to be around middle age with brown hair that was noticeably thinning on top, and hazel eyes that looked at him questioningly- five o' clock shadow seemed to be a permanent thing on his face as well. "My bad. Name's Carlton Smith. I've been with the Agency for about 20 years now." _'I never bothered to ask, but okay.' _Vito was really going to have to bite his tongue if he wanted to make any friends around here.

On the whole, Smith seemed to be a pretty harmless guy; his face was a lot friendlier than 47's cold, stern features- then again, a lot of people looked friendlier than 47. Vito glanced over at Povlsen, who was ignoring both of them while he read his files. Smith continued. "I've worked with Mr. 47 before. Swell guy, he always got my ass out of trouble." The light in his eyes seemed to gleam with excitement as he leaned forward. "How great is it to work with him?" Vito almost gagged on his bacon.

He swallowed and stared at Smith with furrowed brows. "Not at all. What the hell makes you think he's 'swell'?!" Smith seemed surprised for a moment, leaning away to gaze at Vito. "Well, I, uh- he's always helped me out whenever I was in trouble. Though there was that one mission where he held me at gunpoint…" Smith looked a bit forlorn, as if recalling all the encounters he's had with 47. He was quick to snap out of it though. "Anyway, I heard that the Agency had been looking for a partner to aid 47 on some of his missions. I knew it'd take a special kind of guy to be his partner, and I can tell that you're the perfect match to him."

Vito grimaced. "Gross, you make it sound like we're dating." Smith laughed again- his laugh sounded pretty nice, but there was a hint of sadness in it. Vito wondered if Smith had been through a lot of shit in his life. If he worked with 47, most likely. Smith spoke again. "You do know that 47's our top agent. It took months of background research into a lot of different people before they finally settled on a select few to be his partner- you were obviously one of them. Most of the other candidates failed so far, however. Can't quite get it up to par with him, I guess." Vito stopped chewing on his toast- this was news to him. The Wise Guy never thought that he was in a contest, competing to team up with that cold, scary son of a bitch who could make milk curdle with a single glance. He figured this partnership was already set in stone…but if it wasn't…that means…

'_I can still get out of this mess.'_

Smith nodded at Vito with a small smile on his face. "I can tell, though, that you're going to be the one working with him." Vito frowned a bit. "Why's that?" Smith pursed his lips at the question before replying, "I've talked to the other potentials. They were all great, but they lacked something that you seem to have an abundance of." He leaned in again, and Vito smelled a bit of whiskey in his breath. His eyes were brighter than ever. "Anger. Fire. 47 needs someone like you to balance out his icy nature. None of the other candidates tried to fight 47 like you had in the gym, because they were afraid to. You weren't. You're a little spitfire." Vito was taken aback. No, he certainly wasn't a spitfire- Joe always played that part in their friendship. Vito was the cool one, the level-headed straight man who could always pull his short-tempered friends out of harm's way. But seeing 47, just being around him-no. No. There's no way they can ever be partners. 47 brought out the worst in him.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Vito stated a bit irritably as he pushed his chair back from the table, the churning in his stomach telling him that he was finished eating. Povlsen glanced up at Vito and tapped his papers on his knees to straighten them, standing up. Smith stood up as well, and asked the slightly wobbly-looking Vito another question. "How old are you?" Vito replied, "26." Smith nodded again. "You're the youngest candidate. I remember when I was that young; I still had hair back then." He laughed at his own self-deprecating gist and patted Vito on the shoulder- Vito wanted to swat his hand away. "Well, good luck Mr. Scaletta. Have fun in your new partnership." Vito's mind screamed _'There isn't going to be a partnership.' _

Smith began to stroll away, before he stopped and turned back to look at Vito with a grin on his stubbly features. "By the way, if you ever feel like going out for drinks, I'm your man." And with that, Smith walked out without another glance. Vito still felt sick as he threw his food away. _'I could really use a drink right now.'_

Vito met Diana in what was a sort of shooting gallery, like what policemen practiced with- only this was fancier, with moving targets. There was a one-sided mirror behind them, no doubt to monitor Vito's shooting skills. 47 wasn't there. Great. Vito felt like keeping his breakfast in his stomach.

Diana seemed satisfied with what she saw this time- a not hungry, not dirty Vito. She tapped her clipboard with her pen. "You will practice shooting at targets with various caliber weapons- your first gun will be the 9 mm Makarov, a good starter." Vito picked up the pistol- it felt like a nice weight in his hands, solid. Diana watched him handle it before continuing. "From there you will move down the line of weapons, until you've reached the scoped Springfield rifle. You will be given a certain amount of time to shoot as many targets as possible. Good luck." And with that, Diana turned and walked out of the room, leaving Vito standing alone in the room awkwardly holding the gun. Suddenly a voice came out of some nearby speakers, another female voice that wasn't Diana's. "You have one minute to shoot your targets, first non-moving and then moving. Begin."

An hour and several bullets later, Vito's arms felt like lead at his sides. His ears were still ringing from the gunshots, even with the ear mufflers. As he sat the Springfield on its respectable table, Diana walked back into the room followed by Povlsen. She seemed pleased with Vito's performance. "Your shooting skills are beyond satisfactory. Now it is time to for a test." She walked out of the gallery, followed by Vito and Povlsen. "This is a test to measure your understanding of the human anatomy, along with dealing in various scenarios." Several hazy lessons from Vito's high school biology class were brought to mind, and he suddenly felt uneasy. He wasn't exactly well-versed in the various functions of the human body. Diana seemed to sense this. "This is a very basic test; however, you will need to be well-rounded in human behavior, as you may need to interrogate some of your targets, along with understanding those in your environment. And you will need to know basic medical procedures in case the mission doesn't go very smoothly."

And thus the day stretched out far longer than Vito felt like it could. It was mind-numbing and a bit overwhelming, having to learn so much in so short a span of time. And more than likely it will all be for naught, as Vito felt he was probably the worst potential candidate a man like 47 could have. Yet somehow Smith's words stuck in his head. They rang with a sort of truth Vito didn't want to hear. _"47 needs someone like you to balance out his icy nature… you're a little spitfire.'_

Fire and ice, that's what Vito and 47 were to each other, as one of them was bound to be destroyed by the other…

…or they could destroy each other.

When all was said and done, Vito walked with Diana back to his room, Povlsen finally being dismissed. Vito felt the question grating in the back of his mind. He finally decided now was the time to ask it, as they walked quietly together past the large windows of the front lobby, now showing the faint line of the sun disappearing in the horizon. "Where's 47 right now?" Diana replied smoothly, "He's been with other potential partners throughout the day. They were all splendid candidates." Vito felt a glint of hope in his chest, slowly swelling with each step. Splendid candidates, meaning one of them was chosen instead of him. Now this was the part where Diana shakes his hand, tells him to have a wonderful day, and shows him to the door…or possibly kills him. Whatever the Agency decides to do.

But Diana did no such thing. She kept her pace beside Vito and spoke, "However, none of them have quite met the criteria for our needs." And then she stopped, causing Vito to pause beside her. There was nobody in the office at that time, making it seem large and silent. She turned to Vito, the clipboard at her side.

"You, Mr. Scaletta, are the only one who is deemed satisfactory to be Mr. 47's partner."

Oh, no.

"I had a feeling that you were going to be. So much that I had even briefed you on your first mission before you were even aware that you were being tested." Diana had actually displayed that much confidence in Vito. Smith had also been the same way. What the fuck was with all the people who though that he and 47 were a match made in heaven?! Vito felt like he was going to fall over, his legs feeling like goo. Surprisingly, he managed to stand upright, although Diana could tell by his pale complexion that this was not the news he wanted to receive. So she made her voice a tad reassuring as she stated, "You know that I am fully aware of your strained relationship with him; but I know that you provide the greatest balance to him, and he to you. You may not see this, but you two have great potential to create a formidable partnership. Thus…"

Vito froze as he felt a presence behind him, with a silence that made the empty office seem deafening in comparison. He didn't have to look to tell who it was, but he did so anyway, turning himself around to face the other man with no small effort. Steely blue eyes bore into his own midnight blues.

"…I present to you your new colleague, Mr. 47."

Oh, _God, _no.

* * *

><p>DUN DUN DUN! What will happen now?! I wonder if they will ever get along...who knows?!<p> 


	6. Deal With It

**A/N: **This chapter's a wee bit longer than the rest. 47 is a total dick to Vito in this one XD (poor Vito)

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><p>Ch.6<p>

Ah, the beautiful city of Bogotá. Tall, graceful buildings, majestic hills, busling city traffic…

…Oh yeah, and cocaine. Lots and lots of cocaine.

Right now Vito was sitting beside 47 in a first class flight towards the city's chief airport, El Dorado International Airport. The ICA, which Vito finally found out, has several different agencies planted throughout the world- the place where Vito had been drugged and dragged to had still been in New York, in a location that they had decided to keep confidential to Vito until he had proven to be the best partner for 47. Which brings one question to mind- what had happened to the other candidates, those who failed? Were they sent back home? Killed? Had there even been other candidates at all, or were Smith and Diana fucking with him? Vito had a feeling that the question should best be left unanswered. About 90% of the Agency's answers were confidential, anyway.

They had to travel the entire span of the east coast to even get to an airport that would take them to South America. That in itself was about 2 days worth of flight. Now, imagine being stuck on a plane for 2 days next to a man who made a mute person seem like a chatterbox in comparison. If 47 had been taciturn before, he was dead silent. He sat like a statue, hard and unflinching next to Vito like he froze in time. This pretty much eliminated any potential for conversation, not that Vito cared to talk to his partner anyway, despite the fact that they were, well, partners.

'_This has to be the most awkward time of my life in the history of awkward. Not to mention boring as shit.'_

At least the flight attendant was a looker. Vito remembered snapping out of his near coma of boredom to see her offering him a drink with a flirty smile; he accepted it with a wink and grinned as she walked away blushing. Girls were cute. If only 47 was a hot chick, then it may be more bearable to be around him. Why was Vito even thinking about this anyway? Oh yeah, because there was nothing else to _fucking do. _

Vito didn't even try in the shooting range; he honest-to-God did not try at all. But he still got chosen. Woohoo, lucky him, now he's stuck with a fencepost for a partner. He didn't even feel anything when he saw the bruises he'd left on 47's neck, because he didn't care. And these were two guys who had to protect each other, look out for each other, be ready to hurt and kill for each other. All of these but they can't even speak to each other.

'_And thus begins the start of a beautiful friendship. God, I need a cigarette.'_

The second Vito stepped foot off the plane in Bogotá, he remembered that he couldn't speak a lick of Spanish; sure, Italian and Spanish were similar, but they weren't _that _similar. Luckily 47 had snapped out of his catatonic stupor to hail a taxi and get them where they needed to go, which was the outskirts.

Now they were standing outside of a large warehouse just outside of the city's border. Surrounding it were other large warehouses, that and its conformity of design made it a perfect spot for anonymous cocaine manufacturing. Vito had been reciting a phrase in his head for the past hour, carefully attaching words and pulling them apart as he watched 47 keenly observe the exterior of the building for openings which they could enter through surreptitiously. The dusky light of the evening spread shadows over the older agent's face, making him seem all the more ominous to Vito; thus the Wise Guy's words almost caught in his throat. He managed to pull through, although the speech didn't sound nearly as reassuring as it had been in his mind. "Hey, um… Mr. 47." 47 continued observing the building without any acknowledgement to Vito, but the younger man refused to be discouraged. "I, uh… know we haven't been on the best of terms ever since we've met, but I just want to make this clear: I don't wanna keep fighting you. Since we're gonna be working together we have to have each other's backs, and to do that we gotta trust each other." Vito was careful to not let his words slur together into his typical Brooklyn accent, but he became more and more unnerved as he spoke, making this almost impossible to do.

47 wasn't responding, but he wasn't trying to stop Vito either. Instead, he began walking towards the building, forcing Vito to follow him as the younger agent continued to talk. "It may take a while to build up this trust, so let's try to make a fresh start to all of this." 47 stopped suddenly, and turned to Vito. There was a gleam in his steely blue eyes that Vito didn't like at all. The bruises in his neck were a stark contrast to his pale skin, and as he spoke they seemed to become even more prominent. "How do you propose we make a fresh start?" Vito scratched the back of his head and replied with, "Uh… handshake?" Aw yes, the handshake -used in ancient times to confirm that the other man wasn't hiding weapons under his sleeve. This was no guarantee with 47, of course.

Vito awkwardly stuck out his hand towards 47, who eyed it warily. The younger man couldn't help but smirk a bit. "C'mon, I won't bite. Name's Vito Scaletta, pleased to meet you." Finally 47 began reaching out towards Vito's extended hand, and the Wise Guy felt a sense of relief that the bitter tension between them was finally going to end - that was, until 47 grabbed his hand in a vice grip sent a spike of pain through Vito's body. Vito gave out a grunt and threw out his other hand to push 47 away- but the older agent grabbed that hand as well, and pushed Vito onto his knees, looming over him with sparking eyes and a clenched jaw. The older agent began to speak slowly and calmly, his voice edged with steel.

"There's something I would like to make clear as well, Mr. Scaletta: I don't need you. I've worked with the Agency for twenty years, and never during that course of time did I require the help of anyone, especially a whelp like yourself." He emphasized the last words by squeezing Vito's hands hard, making the young man clench his teeth to keep from crying out in agony. 47 leaned in, his next words a breathy hiss that brushed Vito's face. "I know how to paralyze a man using the nerve endings in his hand alone." Another squeeze, another bolt of pain that made Vito gasp as he fought back tears. The ground had small rocks that dug into his pants legs, but that wasn't even a minor discomfort to the agony that the older man could put him through with little effort. 47 continued in a low growl, "So don't get in my way. You're useless to me, and if given the chance, I will leave you behind."

And with those final words, 47 released Vito's hands, which had gone numb from lack of blood flow. Vito sat there for a second rubbing his hands listlessly, stupefied from the cold words that 47 had stated without pause, words that came as naturally to him as breathing. 47 had already turned his back to Vito and was opening a small window close to the ground that led into a cellar of sorts, and slipped inside without a single glance back at the younger man.

It was then that Vito finally realized something, sitting in the darkening alley beside the old warehouse. It wasn't the Agency that he's proving himself to.

It's 47.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Scaletta, I've told you before, it's not in my power to terminate your partnership with Mr.47."<p>

"Ms. Burnwood, you don't understand; he _hates _me. He threatened to paralyze me when I offered him a handshake. He made it pretty damn clear that there isn't going to be a partnership between us, and I want out of it."

Vito was pacing back and forth in his hotel room, talking with Diana on a wireless ear clip. His hands were clenching and unclenching themselves with every step he took, and he was sure that if there was anyone beneath him, he was driving them crazy. He couldn't give two shits about it, though.

Diana was silent for a moment before responding with, "I will try to meet with the head organizer and see if different arrangements can be made; but that is the most I can do. Not all of your missions will involve the cooperation of 47; many of them will be solo."

'_Thank God for that,' _Vito thought to himself as he stopped pacing long enough to sit on the edge of the bed. Outside, the sky was black and glimmered with city lights. Vito's voice carried a hint of relief as he said "Trust me, any favor that you do for me will be a huge solid. Can I ask you a question?" He took the silence on the other end as a sign to continue. "If 47's your best agent, and he's been working alone for twenty years, why did the Agency suddenly decide to get a partner for him?"

Again, more silence. Then finally, Diana breaking it with, "That information is-"

"Confidential. Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Please understand. If I could provide the information I would. But for now, you must learn to work with 47 unless the Agency states otherwise. We can speak no further of this. The pay from the mission has been wired into your account. Good job, Mr. Scaletta, and goodbye."

Vito restrained a sigh. "Toodles." He took off the earpiece and placed it into his suitcase. He stared out of the window of his hotel for a few minutes, looking down at the late night traffic. He felt lucky that the hotel he was staying at was used to receiving tourists, so there were plenty of English speakers to help get him a room with little difficulty. Vito wasn't even sure if 47 was staying at the same hotel. Right after they landed their hits and fled the place, 47 disappeared without a word, leaving Vito standing in a street filled with people who likely couldn't speak a word of English. He managed to hail a taxi, and after speaking in butchered Spanish to the driver concerning, "un hotel to quedarse for el noche", he was finally taken to this one. Now all he has to do is fly all the way back to his new apartment by himself.

Vito sat on the edge of his bed for several minutes, thinking about what 47 had called him. Useless, that's what he was to the older man. That word stung Vito more than he would like to admit. What use was he really to 47? Did he get in the way all the time? Vito figured he'd held his own pretty well in the mission, but somehow that hadn't been good enough, like 47 was always a step ahead. There was always room for improvement, however, and Vito figured that the only person who could teach him would be none other than the man who wanted nothing to do with him.

'_Well, tough shit. We're partners, and there's nothing neither of us can do about it.'_

He picked up his cell phone and began to dial. The phone rang several times, and was never answered. Vito sighed and tried again. The phone rang once, twice, three times, and then it was finally answered by 47's voice, smooth and cold. "Can I help you, Mr. Scaletta?"

To be honest, Vito was actually surprised that 47 had bothered to answer his phone at all. But he quenched his surprise and said, as calmly as he could manage, "We need to talk."

Silence.

"Don't you fucking hang up on me."

More silence. Fucking silence everywhere, god damn it, Vito needed another Joe in his life.

Then 47 broke the silence with, "Which hotel are you staying at?"

"Crowne Plaza Suites."

"Floor 3, room 324." Then 47 hung up. Huh, so they were staying in the same hotel after all.

Vito bounced on his toes a bit as he stood outside room 324. To be honest, he was actually afraid to knock on it. But seeing as how 47 was already expecting him, he may as well. He gave it three crisps knocks and not two seconds passed before the door was opened, revealing 47 sans blazer, the sleeves rolled up on his white button up shirt. The look that he gave Vito wasn't so much cold as it was indifferent, as he stepped aside and let the younger agent into his room.

Once he heard the door close behind him, Vito sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't quite sure how to go about asking 47 for help, or what to say to him at all. God knows 47 wasn't the easiest person to talk to, so he decided that the best way to go about it was to be blunt. He turned to state at the older agent, "You're stuck with me whether you like it or not. And don't think this is easy for me either, because you're a huge asshole." 47 just looked at Vito with his unnervingly steady gaze as the younger man continued with, "I tried to be nice. But now I see that the most we can do is tolerate each other, so there's just one thing I want you to do. I want you to teach me how to not be useless to you."

47 still didn't say anything, but Vito knew just by the fact that the older agent bothered to answer his phone and invite the Wise Guy to his hotel room showed that maybe he was also willing to make progress, however microscopic that chance was. 47 finally spoke, his voice sounding a tad gravelly. "Specify." Vito bit the inside of his lip. Where to start on 'not being useless to the world's top assassin'? "Look, you're one of the oldest agents at the ICA right? You've got twenty years tucked under your belt, I'm not even half that experienced. I can see where you think I'm some kinda greenhorn who can only fuck things up for you, but I'm not a slouch by any means. They stuck us together for a reason."

By now 47 had his arms crossed, staring at Vito with narrowed eyes. "You want me to be your mentor." Vito nodded his head, and 47 became silent once more; but whether or not he was considering the idea was a mystery to the younger man. Finally Vito sighed, exasperated. "Don't you fucking see?! You've humbled me. You're the top dog, you've got the bigger dick, _I get it. _I'm giving you the chance to mould me, do you want to or not?!"

"…Yes."

A simple, monosyllabic answer that brought hope to Vito. 47 was actually willing to go through with this; it only took them six days to reach civil ground. Vito glanced at the clock, which read 11:13, before he turned back to the older man. "Awesome, that's all I needed to know. Now, first thing's first: teach me that trick where you can paralyze a guy with only his hands. No, back off, I don't want a direct demonstration."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Something tells me that 47 would put zero effort in his partnership with Vito, so the poor Wise Guy's gotta do all the work. Thus any sort of positive relationship they develop will move at a snail's pace, woohoo!


End file.
